


one another

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, also hints of markson, basically maknaeline have a srs bsns round table discussion, canon!fic, ft snacks they stole from jackson, g(ot7) fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: in which youngjae can't help but notice that some members are more equal than others, and realises he isn't the only one feeling this way.





	one another

**Author's Note:**

> another old repost from lj, this one was written in 2016! inspired by an interview the three of them did a long time ago (super duper long ago) plus that one photoshoot of the three of them (which i can't find now boohoo) of yugyeom lying on youngjae's lap holding bambam's hand?? (i t hInk??) so yeah! 
> 
> i just really wanted #justiceformaknaeline and this was how it manifested, idk!! 
> 
> canonfic set in feb 2016 when all of them were still living together rip

Youngjae’s stomach is grumbling angrily by the time he steps through the door.

He’s too tired to face the war of voices in his head ( _no food after six p.m. if you want to lose weight_ versus _three hours of dance and vocal practice on top of Got7’s daily schedule warrants a snack_ ), hoping to be able to distract himself with the thought of a shower, but as he’s thoughtlessly grabbing clothes from his closet all he can think about suddenly is fried chicken and it’s making him very miserable.

It’s emptier around here with everyone else gone, for extra variety training and shooting schedules, and Youngjae stills for a moment before leaving the room, suddenly lonely. They’d talked about this solo vs group thing, sure, _loads_ of times, in fact, and it’d been this common consensus that some of them would definitely be more busy (read: successful) than others. But while _business_ is a team effort some are obviously still _busier_ than others, and Youngjae’s been having a depressing amount of free time.

He’s trudging out of the room, trying to yawn to prove to himself that he’s worked hard and that everything comes at its own time and to be motivated, when he hears a soft murmur from Jackson’s room, the mutter of _stupid spoon_ , the sound of a tin hitting the floor, followed by (and he’s definitely not wrong here, his stomach can testify to that) the sound of delighted crunching.

Youngjae blinks. Actually, he hadn’t heard Yugyeom or Bambam around the dorm at all when he came back- the three of them would usually be dumped here if not out on impromptu company dance battles (Yugyeom) or hanging out with other cool company foreigners (Bambam).

He can’t help it- he’s propelled by the impeccable force of hunger to the door, still clutching onto his clothes. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he pushes open the door by a crack, and is assaulted by the smell of something painfully pleasant.

Youngjae stands uncomfortably in the doorway, staring in, and the maknaes stare back from where they’re seated cross-legged around a golden square tin on the floor, mouths full.

Bambam swallows his mouthful nervously. “Don’t tell Jackson.”

“What is that?” Youngjae can’t resist asking. His stomach gives a particularly loud growl, as if enthusiastically expressing its interest as well.

“Oh, these?” Yugyeom sounds relieved that Youngjae isn’t trying to make them stop- but then again he’d never been the most authoritarian hyung, anyway. If anything, he gets babied more than the both of them do, anyway. “They’re biscuit rolls of heaven.”

“We have no idea what they’re actually called,” Bambam confesses. “But Jackson’s mom’s been sending him all sorts of lunar new year snacks. We found these after the pineapple tarts ran out,” he stuffs a cylindrical biscuit into his mouth conversationally, cheeks puffing out as he tries to talk through it. “Want one?”

Youngjae winces at the biscuit being offered to him, and Yugyeom catches on faster than Bambam does.

“Technically I’m supposed to be on a diet, too,” the maknae shrugs, before taking a bite of the biscuit, tilting his head back to catch the crumbs. “Not stopping me.”

“One can’t hurt, right?” Youngjae grimaces, settling on the floor to accept the biscuit.

“No, man, not with these- it’s the entire tin or nothing,” Bambam says seriously. “I swear they put drugs in these things. With those peanut butter biscuits too, last month, right Gyeom?”

“How many snacks do you guys steal, on average?” Youngjae nibbles at the edge of the biscuit- the roll seems to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces immediately, and he’s forced to catch them with his other hand.

“Oh yeah, watch out for the crumbs,” Bambam says, unconcerned. “And about the snacks, well, it’s sort of their fault for not sharing, really. Jinyoung had this whole box of Lucky Charms in his closet once, and it looked like he wasn’t even planning on sharing, can you believe it? _We’re_ the growing boys, aren’t we? Technically _we_ should be the ones getting to eat everything.”

“And it helps that these snacks are sort of illegal, so it’s not like they can demand out loud to know who’s eating them, anyway,” Yugyeom doesn’t miss a beat, stuffing the rest of the biscuit roll into his mouth.

“That’s cruel,” Youngjae is being enlightened to the fact that these biscuit rolls probably do have drugs in them, because he’s finished one and is craving another. _There goes this week’s calorie intake._

“It’s rule of thumb,” Yugyeom corrects him. “The maknae code of conduct. Stealing snacks are part and parcel of our existence. They’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Tell that to Jaebum,” Youngjae doesn’t bother with honorifics now that it’s just them. It isn’t often that the three of them get to spend time like this- he either has vocal training with Yugyeom or takes dance tuition from Bambam when the rest are busy, but they never get to relax together. It’s oddly calming, he finds, like taking a weight off his shoulders he never knew was there. “He still gets upset and stressed whenever I say I’m tired or hungry, I wish he’d _care_ about something other than practice or diet for once.”

“Believe me, I’m pretty sure he does,” Bambam says drily, licking his fingers. “If anything, he should stop getting on my case whenever I’m talking with the other trainees- just ‘cause we’re promoting doesn’t mean we have to have a totally dead social life, you know.”

“He’s worried you’re gonna throw yourself at some girl and get us all in trouble,” Yugyeom smirks, and Bambam swells indignantly.

“At least I actually _know_ how to talk to girls, Mr I-can’t-face-Yerin-without-turning-into-a-tomato,” the older boy retorts, and Yugyeom shrugs, unperturbed. Youngjae jumps a little when Bambam turns to him, eyes alight with a new idea. “Hey Jae! Do you like anyone in the company?”

“Why would you ask that?” Youngjae mumbles, lowering the biscuit in his hands, slightly uncomfortable.

“Hey, come on, not like we’ve got anyone to _tell_ , anyway,” Bambam says encouragingly, and Yugyeom rolls his eyes.

“Other than the ten thousand trainees and idols from all over the country that you know,” he shoots back, and Bambam gives him a _face_.

“Okay, fine, but I won’t tell, serious,” the older boy pretends to cross his heart, and Yugyeom mouths a _no don’t do it_ over the Thai native’s shoulder. “Really. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Not like it matters, anyway, I’ve never really thought about it,” Youngjae shrugs, chewing on a bite of biscuit. “Why bother when you guys are around, right? Not like anyone’s going to notice me.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Yugyeom carefully breaks off another bit of biscuit, handing one to Bambam. “Don’t you know? Girls love a guy who can sing.”

Youngjae laughs, the sound politely empty. “Yeah, thanks a lot. You sound like Jackson, now.”

He’s chewing on another biscuit, stewing through a bleak silence, when Yugyeom surprises him.

“Sorry,” the maknae says sincerely, and that’s it. Youngjae doesn’t really have it in him to question, and he’s relieved when Bambam changes the topic.

“Speaking of Jackson,” he says, inspecting his fingertips unconcernedly. “You think he’ll notice?”

“We ate like, half the tin,” Yugyeom squints into the can. “I’m pretty sure he’ll notice.”

“You think he’ll get mad at us?” Youngjae asks, slightly worried, now that he thinks about it properly.

“What’s he gonna do?” Bambam snorts, taking another biscuit roll. “Shout at us through the Roommate camera? Not like he’s even around here much now anyway.”

An odd silence falls on all three of them, then, pouring over them like cold water, and suddenly Youngjae’s appetite is gone. Suddenly he’s wondering what the hell he’s doing here, _eating_ , why he isn’t at the company building killing his body and his voice for that ever elusive chance to be _busy_ in the future. The very thought of it is enough to erode the hunger to a dull ache, bring his mood down all the way until he feels sluggish, weighed down with guilt and restlessness and a self-hatred that grows faster every time it plants itself in his heart.

But then he sees the way Bambam nudges Yugyeom with his foot, leaning closer, and something seems to defuse, like a chemical reaction, breaking whatever spell it is that’s come over them, and they slide back into motion. Bambam takes a casual bite of his biscuit, Yugyeom reaches over to Mark’s side of the room and pulls a pack of Skittles out from the dresser like it’s his own.

“Want another one?” Bambam pushes the tin over to Youngjae. “Told you these things were addictive.”

“Do you ever just-…” Youngjae cuts right through Bambam’s offer, fumbling for words despite how desperate he is to get them off his chest. Both maknaes look up questioningly, Bambam’s eyes comically wide, Yugyeom in the middle of carefully opening the resealable packet of Skittles so he doesn’t tear the packet any further. Youngjae hesitates, unsure of what this question will do to them, if it’ll reinforce his fears or throw him into further depression- either way, the prospects are pretty miserable.

“Want a roommate change? All the time,” Bambam finishes for him solemnly, and Yugyeom kicks him, almost spilling the Skittles.

“You know,” Youngjae’s flushing, unable to look either of them in the eye. “Do you ever, kinda like, see Jackson at roommate and Mark at ASC and Jaebum and Jinyoung-hyung doing important things and just kind of-…” he stops abruptly, unsure of how to say it, because there hasn’t been a word invented for it yet- jealousy isn’t right, nor frustration, nor bitterness, it’s sort of a horrible stew of everything, that boils down to a recycled anger that burns low at the back of his throat he can’t direct at anyone but himself. It’s inadequacy, pounded through with sorrow and fear and it’s driving Youngjae crazy, to the point he _has_ to ask if it’s insanity or just tragic normalcy. “Get upset?”

He winces, because that’s not what he intended to say at all and he sounds like a jealous brat bitter that his bandmates are doing better than he is. But Bambam and Yugyeom are exchanging glances, and Bambam clears his throat, brushing crumbs off himself onto Jackson’s mattress.

“You get that too?” he says, voice carefully clean of any emotion, like it can’t matter any less to him as he turns to inspect his face in the mirror propped on Jackson’s dresser, that Youngjae hadn’t even known was there. There’s a fine layer of dust over the reflective surface, like it hasn’t been used in ages.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Yugyeom shrugs.

“I _know_ Jaebum-hyung says we’ll _have our season_ , or whatever-…”

“Doesn’t make it any better though, does it,” Bambam snorts. “That’s Jackson’s favourite thing to say, you know. _Oh, it’s alright, kid, at least you don’t have to suffer the long hours_ or _it’ll all come in time_ , like, is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly it,” Youngjae leans forward, hoping the relief isn’t coming out as audibly in his voice as he thinks it is. “I just-…I mean I know they mean well, but sometimes it’s so obvious they just don’t _care,_ you know?”

“ _Yes Yugyeom, yes I want to hear what you have to say but I’ve got hundreds of important leader things to do so I’ll just half-ass my reply and hope you’re stupid enough to accept it,”_ Yugyeom imitates, before throwing back a couple more Skittles. “It’s sad, sometimes. But mostly frustrating.”

“They’re pitiful,” Bambam mutters, sounding like he’s ever bit as aware that he’s uttering a complete lie, and that it’s the other way around, as Youngjae is, and something weighs Youngjae’s heart down at the quiet disappointment in their eyes, which tells him they’re just as confused as he is.

“It’s alright, though, right?” Yugyeom says listlessly, looking into the Skittles pack without much further thought. “At least we’ve got each other to be useless with.”

“And everyone wants to be with you,” Bambam knees him in the side, and Yugyeom throws a Skittle at him. Youngjae manages to force a weak laugh.

“I guess you’re right,” the reality of it feels worse, now that they’ve confirmed it, but at the same time the force of the blow is weakened, spread over a wider space, so while the hurt is coming on in full force, at least the fear is gone.

“Who needs them anyway,” Bambam declares, popping another roll into his mouth. “We’re pretty awesome as we are. We could form our own sub-unit, already- Youngjae-hyung can sing and I can rap and Yugyeommie can dance. They’ll see- they’ll be nothing without their main vocal and dancer. _And_ aegyo king,” he turns to the mirror again, preening.

“I think everyone would be better off without you,” Yugyeom says smugly, and Bambam throws the Skittle back at him. “Youngjae-hyung, though-…”

“You’ll see, Jae,” Bambam reaches over to thump Youngjae on the back, and he smiles faintly. “You’re gonna go on Immortal Song 2 and I’m gonna get drafted into ASC permanently and Yugyeom’s going to be a truck driver and we’re all gonna be stars.”

“None of us can drive, you idiot,” Yugyeom snatches the biscuit roll from Bambam’s hand, and Youngjae giggles nervously, feeling infinitesimally better. “Besides, hyung, it’s not like all the practice we’re putting in now is going to go to waste in the future. We’re in a pretty decent company with a surviving track record and a pretty decent fanbase that crops pictures of our butts to use as their display pictures- I think we’re safe long term, you know?”

“Yeah,” Youngjae says, at least semi-confident of what he’s saying, now, as he finishes his biscuit roll, dusting his hands, about to take another when both Yugyeom and Bambam freeze like deer in the headlights, and that’s when Youngjae hears the minute sounds of footsteps shuffling in the corridor outside.

There’s one heartbeat moment where they all look at each other, the same primal reaction kicking in at once.

They snap into action with an unplanned coordination that can only be developed after years of being the maknaes of such a big group- Yugyeom seals the pack of Skittles nimbly, tossing it back in Mark’s drawer, and Youngjae grabs the lid of the tin to close it while Bambam uses his foot to sweep the crumbs to Mark’s mattress.

By the time the door opens and the first hyung sets foot in the dorm, the three of them are crumb-less and milling around bleakly, Youngjae refolding his clothes on the couch, and Jinyoung scrutinises them carefully.

“Have you all showered,” Jaebum sounds dead on his feet, and Youngjae watches as the four of them walk in, yawning and heavy-lidded, and feels a tinge of deep-set concern despite himself.

“I haven’t, sorry,” he says, gaze flicking down in apology. “I’ll be quick-…I won’t use too much hot water, too.”

“No, no it’s fine, Jae. Take however much time you need,” Jackson’s trying to speak without yawning through his words, sleepily walking over to ruffle Youngjae’s hair fondly, and Bambam pokes his head out from his and Yugyeom’s room, scowling.

“Why don’t you ever tell _me_ to take my time?”

“Because you always do,” Mark says amiably, and Yugyeom’s laughter ricochets around the dorm from within the room while Bambam retreats grumpily, not before turning to Youngjae and mouthing an _I told you so_ , to which Youngjae has honestly no idea what he’s referring.

“Have you eaten?” Jinyoung walks over to ask worriedly, and Youngjae immediately feels a little guilty, watching Jackson dump his bag outside his room, humming some tune three steps off key and heading in. “You don’t have to stick to the 6pm rule if it means missing dinner all the time, you know, you’ll get _hungry-_ you know what, let me make you something now-…”

“No, no, it’s fine, really, I ate something just now,” Youngjae pleads, alarmed, but Jinyoung’s still looking anxiously at him when Mark calls out wearily from the bathroom.

“Hey, Jae, I’m just going to wash my face, I’ll be out in a second and you can shower.”

“Sure, okay,” Youngjae stands, clutching his clothes to his chest, but then Jaebum walks in from the kitchen, regarding his phone with a frown on his face.

“Youngjae, what time did you stay _until_?” and Youngjae winces. _He’s going to be mad._ “The vocal trainer’s telling me you stayed until _eleven thirty_ for extra practice and had two hours of dance self prac before that?”

“Yeah,” Youngjae mumbles, looking at his feet. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Jae I know you’re trying to improve, but you can’t practice like this, okay?” Jaebum sounds tightly strung, and Youngjae feels worse than ever. “You’re going to burn yourself out-… _none_ of us can do this on a daily basis. You’re coming straight back here with us tomorrow after the radio interview, understand?”

“He’s telling you he cares about you and wants you to relax, by the way, except he’s too much of an asshole to say it properly,” Jinyoung says loudly, sending Jaebum a _look_ , to which Jaebum rolls his eyes, giving Youngjae one last warning look before going back to the kitchen. Youngjae flinches when he hears the none-too-gentle treatment of a mug from within as Jaebum pours himself some water, and Jinyoung sighs.

“We live with idiots,” he shakes his head, sliding an arm around Youngjae’s shoulder, and Youngjae laughs nervously.

Just then, Jackson’s voice travels out from his open door the way only Jackson’s voice can, noisy and slightly annoying in a way that grows on you eventually.

“ _Mark_ , you been eating my love letters, man?”

Mark emerges from the bathroom grumpily, rubbing a towel into his face, before replying in a tone that suggests he is this close to reaching his quota of Shit from Jackson for the day, and woe betide anyone who pisses him off now.

“ _No_ , I keep them under my mattress, you stupid shit.”

An extremely pregnant pause follows that irritable declaration.

Youngjae blinks owlishly, as Bambam and Yugyeom poke out from their room with the air of an expectant circus audience waiting for the grand finale, and Jaebum walks out of the kitchen, holding a cup, his face the very picture of suspicion. It’s a few moments later before Jackson’s head slowly emerges from within his room, expression slightly uncomfortable.

“Dude,” he says, noticeable quieter this time. “I meant the biscuits.”

There’s another long period of silence, this time with the near tangible burn of Jaebum’s scrutiny on the both of them, before all hell breaks loose at once. Mark tries to duck back into the bathroom, Jackson into his room, but Jaebum marches over to snatch them both by the collars of their shirts and drag them out, while the maknaes cheer excitedly from their doorway.

“Go shower,” Jinyoung whispers, quickly ushering Youngjae, stumbling and half-inclined to laugh, towards the bathroom, as Jaebum dumps them both on the couch and folds his arms across his chest, fixing them with a glare terrifying enough to level a forest.

Jackson’s outburst of protests is muffled as Youngjae shuts the door behind him, stifling his laughter with a hand over his mouth, and in that moment, listening to the atmosphere outside slide back into its achingly familiar routine of chaos and Jackson’s never ending noise, he lets out a long sigh, head falling with a soft thump back onto the door.

Things are always changing, sure, but just as long as they stay this way, Youngjae muses, feeling the tension bleed from his shoulders, they’re all going to be alright. He’ll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> do yell at me about got7/skz/twice on twt @goldengyeom if you'd like???? i might not reply immediately but know that i love u with all my heart and am just technologically challenged


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